


The Evils of Redundancy

by hardboiledbaby



Category: Starsky & Hutch
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-06
Updated: 2010-01-06
Packaged: 2017-10-05 21:52:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/46388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hardboiledbaby/pseuds/hardboiledbaby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Under the pitiless, unforgiving lights of the interrogation room, the two detectives watched her silently and waited.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Evils of Redundancy

**Author's Note:**

> Not a happy place, folks.

"May I smoke?" she asked politely. At Starsky's nod, she pulled out a pack of Virginia Slims and lit up.

She was a tall bleached blond in her late fifties with gray-green eyes. Her figure, probably considered voluptuous once upon a time, was running to seed now, a fact she tried to hide beneath shapeless clothes. Her posture was perfect though; she sat with her spine straight and her head erect. She took a deep drag on her cigarette and exhaled a stream of smoke. The plume expanded and hung in the air. It blurred the lines that time and disappointment had etched on her face, and for a brief moment, she appeared as she must have looked some ten or fifteen years ago. However, the haze dissipated, and under the pitiless, unforgiving lights of the interrogation room, the illusion dissolved and the harsher reality of the present returned.

The two detectives watched her silently and waited for a word, a gesture, an expression—anything that might reveal the story behind the events of the evening. If she was bothered by the scrutiny, she made no outward sign of it. Calm and composed, her hand was steady as she delicately tapped ashes into the ashtray.

Finally, Hutch said, "Mrs. Burton—"

"Martha, please," she said pleasantly. Hutch began again.

"All right. Martha, do you want to tell us what happened?"

She looked mildly startled. "Isn't it obvious?"

The men exchanged glances, and Starsky said, "Well, yes ma'am, I guess it is. But why did it happen?"

Martha looked down at her sleeve and frowned. "I suppose this is ruined now. I'll have to make another." She rubbed at the spots on her sweater. A sprinkle of rust-colored flakes fell off the yarn. "I did a lot of sewing and knitting when our children were young. I taught our daughter to knit, too. It's not very popular these days, but I think it's good for girls to learn these things.

"She's grown now. Our baby girl and the two boys, they're all grown up. All of them, off living lives of their own." She waved her hand around, and then brought the cigarette back to her lips. "I guess it's a mother's lot in life, to become... redundant." More smoke floated and drifted. "But a wife—a wife shouldn't be redundant.

"It's in the Bible, you know." She recited, almost absently: "'Ye have heard that it was said by them of old time, Thou shalt not commit adultery: But I say unto you, That whosoever looketh on a woman to lust after her hath committed adultery with her already in his heart. And if thy right eye offend thee, pluck it out, and cast it from thee: for it is profitable for thee that one of thy members should perish, and not that thy whole body should be cast into hell.'" She tamped out the cigarette, methodically crushing each little glowing ember until they were all extinguished.

After a long pause, Hutch spoke, more to break the silence than anything else. "That's in the gospel of Matthew, isn't it?"

"Very good, Detective, you remember." Her mouth tightened. "It's too bad Edmund didn't."

A knock on the door heralded the arrival of the lawyer, a harried-looking young man from the Public Defender's Office. At his request, the detectives stepped out into the hallway to wait. Tim Brickwell, the officer who had escorted the PD to the interrogation room, was standing there.

"We got this a couple of minutes ago," he said, holding out a file, first to Hutch, then to Starsky. Neither of them made a move to take it.

"Just--what does it say?" Starsky asked wearily. Brickwell tucked the coroner's report under his arm and shrugged.

"No surprises," he said. "Fuck, what a way to go. Stabbed in the eye with a knitting needle." He shuddered. "Penetrated right through to the brain. Jeeze."


End file.
